


Michael

by s0thathappened



Series: Post-EoD [2]
Category: Penryn & the End of Days - Susan Ee
Genre: F/M, Post-End of Days, post-eod
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-16 19:16:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4637061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s0thathappened/pseuds/s0thathappened
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Penryn meets archangel Michael. Post EoD</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“He’s coming.”

Penryn sat on the side of their bed and tugged socks over her feet. “What is it about mornings that make you extra cryptic, Raffe?”

“I’m not being cryptic,” Raffe grumbled. He scooted over the sheets until he was right behind her and wrapped his arm around her waist. He kissed her shoulder as a good morning.

“You totally are.” Penryn deepened her voice to match Raffe’s pitch. “‘He’s coming.’ You make Michael sound like the Dark Lord, not one of your old archangel buddies.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call him a buddy,” Raffe said, nuzzling Penryn’s neck. She was so warm, so damn soft. Even after all this time, it felt so good to touch her without guilt or restraint. He never wanted to stop now that he could.

“Buddy or no buddy, he’s coming either way.” Penryn reached back to stroke Raffe’s head. His lips against her bare skin and his firm grip around her waist tempted her to climb back into bed and cozy up with Raffe for the rest of the morning, or at least until a less ungodly hour than five in the morning.

Instead she yanked her boot on.

“And since you’re going to be our unofficial Messenger of Man, maybe you should be a bit more friendly towards him.”

“Don’t see why. All the heads of states are sending representatives to be there to negotiate with him. Not to mention you will be there.”

“Yeah, I bet he’s shaking in his boots. We agreed he’d be more likely to listen to someone from his own kind, not one of the monkeys. Just talk to him, archangel to archangel.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, archangels don’t really get along with each other.”

“It must have something to with all that alpha-dog, king-of-the-holy-mountain power trip you all are on.”

Raffe bit her earlobe. “Plague. I missed the days when you were still dazzled by magnificence.”

“Pretty sure I was still plague-ish back then.”

“Yeah, but you always had that awestruck look in your eyes that said ‘take me, Raffe, you big strong handsome--’” He darted sideways just in time to avoid her jab, but not fast enough when Penryn launched herself at him.

“You--are--such--an--ass,” she huffed as they wrestled, both of them laughing and roughhousing like children.

He might have been stronger, but she was quicker and meaner. She pinned him down under her and held down his biceps.

“Still looking dazzled?” she asked, grinning.

Even as she straddled him, he smirked and tucked his hands under his head as if he were completely under control. “I don’t know. It’s a pretty nice view from where I’m looking.”

She rolled her eyes but kissed him anyway. Then, despite Raffe’s groan of protest, she hopped off the bed and jammed her other foot into the remaining boot.

“Hold that thought until tonight,” she said. She shrugged on her jacket, pecked Raffe’s cheek, and strode out to deal with her duties in the World After.

* * *

 

Humanity, Penryn decided later that day, had not been worth saving.

After the uneventful morning patrol, she found herself confronted by the Liberty Group (a lofty name for a bunch of pimply-faced morons who decided to form a political party when there technically weren’t any elections or even a functioning government). This week, they decided to yell at her about invasion of privacy and the so-called “census,” which was basically a giant address book that kept track of where everyone was living now that they had spread out to the surrounding neighborhoods and moved into houses. And was a good sign because that meant the former Resistance wasn’t packed in like sardines in camps or random buildings anymore.

She managed to escape their clutches only to have to break up a fight in one of the community gardens. Some genius had decided to plant marijuana next to the carrots, which offended the delicate sensibilities of another equally intellectually gifted peer. The argument had devolved into a full-fledged fistfight by time Penryn had arrived (with Dee and Dum already taking bets). One of the ace gardeners missed his target and ended planting his fist in Penryn’s face.

The fighters shut up and froze quickly after that, but it didn’t save them from her wrath. She banned both of them from the gardens and made some suggestions to where they could go shove the weed and carrots.

Then came the earthquake. It was a small one and caused no damage, other than setting off her mother’s doomsday cult. Her lunch hour was spent with her mother lecturing her on how the earthquake heralded a new wave of demons ascending from hell. Penryn couldn’t convince her to shut the ruckus down, but Paige intervened and convinced their mother to take her apocalyptic groupies to the beach and away from the civilians.

The last straw snapped when Thermo stopped by her to tell that someone set off a dozen stink bombs in the Angel camp. It was the third prank this month and normally Penryn secretly found it funny that someone had the ability to sneak past demigod warriors to pull middle school pranks. This time, however, the thought of having to go make nice with a bunch of pissed-off, smelly angel warriors made her want to scream.

Thermo, knowing a ticking bomb when he saw one, was quick to reassure her.

“The Commander’s already dealing with it,” he said, already hurrying off. “Don’t worry about it.”

Finally, Dee told her to take a break and shooed her off. He and Dum could manage things for a couple hours while she cooled off.

“If you stick around, you’ll probably stab someone with Pooky Bear,” he said.

“Which would be awesome,” said Dum.

“So awesome.”

“But it might be one of us.”

“And we’re way too pretty to die young.”

And thus Penryn found herself sitting on a swing set in a school playground a good mile away from the settlement and fuming about humanity.

The world had nearly ended. By some miracle, after the calamity, humans were still left standing. And they still had the energy to squabble about where they were standing and who got to stand where and who had the right to know where they were standing.

And for some unfathomable reason, she was in charge of this little patch of humanity. They looked to her as their leader and came to her with every problem, big or small. Every attempt to pass the reins on someone else, even the council, had been met with resistance.

Penryn gingerly poked her bruised cheek. Yeah, she felt the love.

* * *

By the time Penryn saw the angel, he must have only been a minute away. From the distance, she could make out a mop of blond hair and storm grey wings.

She didn’t recognize him. That wasn’t unusual considering she didn’t know most of the ones staying at the Angel camp by name or even by face. Still, instinct had her standing up and drawing out Pooky Bear.

As his wings brought him closer, she got a better look. Like most angels, he was shirtless and showing off his well-defined (understatement of the century) chest. He was probably shorter than Raffe, but more overtly muscular. His hair was the exact shade of gold and he was the first angel she’d ever seen that had a beard.

Pooky pulsed, sweeping Penryn into a memory.

_She was with Raffe, standing in a field in the aftermath of a battle. All around was blood and bodies and the moans of the dying._

_The blond angel looked grimly at Raffe. He was a scary sight, standing bruised and sweaty. Blood dripped from his sword and seeped into the already soaked earth._

_“Raphael.” He held out his hand in greeting._

_Raffe grasped it and shook it._

_“Michael.”_

Penryn snapped back to reality just as the angel landed a good ten feet away from her.

They stared at each for a beat.

“You are Penryn Young.” Just as it was in the memory, his voice was deep, almost booming even when he was speaking as quietly as he was now.

“Yeah,” she said. “And you’re Michael.”

She lowered Pooky, silently thanking the sword for the heads up. She didn’t put Pooky back in her sheath, but she wasn’t stupid to think that she’d win in a one-in-one fight against an archangel, angelic sword or no.

He probably wasn’t looking for a fight anyway. Or at least she hoped he wasn’t.

“You’re early,” she said. “We were expecting you to come next week.”

Something in the archangel’s eyes flashed, but it was too quick for Penryn to catch. His irises were brown, so dark they almost looked black.

It made his stony scrutiny of her even more uncomfortable. Still, she tried to stay as still and impassive as possible. It was best if this little encounter ended with minimum hostility, even if it already seemed unlikely that they’d part ways friendly.

Finally, he spoke.

“I thought you would be taller.”

She nearly snorted.

“You’re not the first person to tell me that.”

“I also thought you would be more beautiful.”

“I’ve gotten that a lot, too.” She shrugged. “I’m an acquired taste.”

Michael’s mouth tightened.

Okay, then. Best to keep jokes to a minimum.

“I can take you to Raffe if you’re looking for him.” She remembered the stink bomb attack in the Angel camp and winced inwardly. “Or I can let him know you’re here--”

“I am not here to see Raphael.” His lip curled. “I wanted to see his Daughter of Man.”

“Okay.” Not okay. Probably really, really not okay. Penryn fought hard to keep her face impassive.

“That would be you.”

“Yeah.”

Michael cocked his head. “Are you a simpleton as well?”

Calm, calm, stay calm.

“No.”

“If you were really a simpleton, you would not be able to tell either way.”

“Then I guess there’s no point in asking.” Penryn tried to squash her temper. He was officially an asshole, but he was still an asshole she needed as an ally.

“I suppose a simpleton would not be able to figure that out.” Michael crossed his arms, making his muscles bulge in a vaguely threatening manner, at least in her opinion. “You have one or two adequate qualities then.”

His eyes flickered to Pooky Bear in her hand. He frowned, as if what he was seeing did not make sense.

“I heard rumors, but I did not believe them until I saw them with my own eyes.” He nodded at the archangel sword. “It is true. You can wield our swords.”

“Sword. I can only wield this one.” She bit back a joke about how she was a one-sword-kind-of-gal. Somehow she didn’t think he would find that amusing.

“How?” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

She shrugged again.

“Probably out of convenience. Raf--Raphael couldn’t wield her so I was her only option.”

“No,” he said. “That is not it.”

He seemed pretty unhappy about that, even if he was the one admitting it.

They stood in silence while Michael brooded and stared at her.

What was it about archangels and brooding?

Two slow, silent minutes went by before Penryn broke the quiet.

“So you wanted to see Raphael’s Daughter of Man. You’ve seen me now. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

He scowled at her, but he seemed more frustrated than hostile.

“You are not afraid of me.”

Penryn took a moment to gather her thoughts.

“No,” she said deliberately. She dug the tip of her sword against the ground and wrapped both her hands around the hilt. “I’m sure you’re great warrior and all, and that you can easily kill me if you wanted to. That’s plenty to be afraid of.”

She remembered when she first met Raffe, when she told him that she wasn’t afraid of him or his God. That definitely hadn’t been true, and both of them knew it.

She had always been a terrible liar. Might as well tell the truth now.

“But,” she continued. “I don’t think you’re going to kill me. You’ve already agreed to meet with Raphael later to figure out how to take the angels back home. I don’t think you’re interested in rehashing hostilities right now.”

Michael didn’t exactly relax, but his scowl seemed to get less intense.

“Three archangels came to Earth. Two are dead, and one is as good as Fallen. Many more of my brothers are dead and our society is in disarray. I never wanted to be Messenger, but now I have to step in at the worst time in our history. Why shouldn’t I want to kill you?”

Penryn sat back down on the swing set, as if discussing her possible revenge murder was a normal topic of conversation for her.

“Gabriel was the one who brought the angels to Earth even though he hadn’t spoken to God in eons, maybe never.” Her voice was calm, quiet even. Her anger burned harder with every word, not hot like fire but colder and colder like ice. “He sent your brothers to Pit for violating rules he had made up in the first place. Uriel was the one who had Raffe’s wings ripped off and had the angels stick around Earth, fooling them into thinking that Judgement Day was around the corner. And all the while you angels were hashing out your problems, you did your best to turn Earth into your personal hellscape. Our civilizations crumbled. Our children and friends were turned into monsters. Millions and millions of people died because of your petty politics.

“We did kill Uriel. That’s on us humans. We’re not sorry. We’ve paid the price of angels’ mistakes a thousand times over. And we’re done cowering. It’s time for you to go home and get your house in order.”

Michael didn’t reply. Again, he simply studied her while she stared him down.

Some corner of Penryn’s mind acknowledged how ridiculous of a portrait this must have made. A teenage girl sitting on a rusty swing set with a sword resting between her knees glaring at the leader of a demigod warrior race.

Finally, he spoke.

“I think I understand now.”

She arched an eyebrow. She doubted that he was referring to their earlier conversation.

“I thought it was foolish to come to Earth in the first place,” he said. “I have no love for your kind, but I have never hated them either, unlike some of my brothers. We are warriors. Humans are fragile with short and soft lives. I had believed we would have found no war with your kind, only slaughter. I had been wrong.”

Penryn’s fists tightened around her sword. She knew it was stupid to go on her tirade earlier, stupid to pick a fight when they had finally managed peace. She’d be damned if he tried to start another war.

“And you are right.”

Penryn’s jaw almost dropped. Almost.

“It is time for this madness to end. It is time for my people to come home and for order to restored.”

Her mouth open and closed a few times before she could finally remember how to speak.

“Good,” she managed.

“Yes.”

Then Penryn remembered why they need to be on Michael’s good side.

“About going home…”

It was now Michael’s turn to be surprised. “Is there more?”

“Yeah. The angels should go home, but not all at once. When the legion first came in, it wrecked Earth. Floods, earthquakes, twisters--basically every disaster in the book all around the world. If you leave all at once, it might set all that off again, which would be…” she trailed off lamely, trying to find a way to say that the human race would be wiped out without making humanity sound wimpy.

“Bad?”

“Yeah.”

She really wasn’t supposed to be doing this. There were diplomats on route from around the world, sent from governments that had managed to hang on by a thread or were clobbered back together, who would be way better at negotiating and making deals with the other side. In any case, Raffe was supposed to be here, talking to him...archangel to archangel.

“That can be arranged,” Michael said. He scrubbed a hand over his beard and raked it through his hair. “It is the honorable thing to do.”

“Thank you.” This was good. She should quit while she was ahead but…

Dammit. She never thought she’d have to do this. This was why Raffe should be doing this.

“Also…”

Michael gave her an exasperated look.

“What?”

“Laylah.”

He nodded. “Yes, I have some idea of the atrocities she has committed. I promise you, she will be more than adequately punished for her crimes.”

“As nice as that sounds, that’s not why I brought her up. She’s done a lot of…” Penryn couldn’t bring herself to finish that sentence. The Pit was too good for what Laylah had done. “Laylah did some horrible things, but she’s done her part to fix them. She gave Raphael back his wings.” Twice. “She helped my sister get back to something close to normal. And she’s been teaching human doctors how to help change back all the kids like me sister. She turned against Uriel before the tide turned against him. She deserves…” A second chance? No, screw that. “...leniency.”

Michael set his jaw. She could practically hear his teeth grinding all the way from the swing set.

“I will not give her amnesty.”

“You can talk to Raphael about what you want to do with Laylah. He’ll have a better handle on any justice system you angels might have.” And she couldn’t stomach defending Laylah any more than she had to. “I’m only telling you that she should be judged for everything she did, not just the bad.”

That didn’t put much of a dent on Michael’s irritation.

“I had assumed you would be jealous of Laylah.”

“Believe me, I wish that was my problem with her. I don’t need to like her to know fair’s fair. And I’m not going to punish Raffe for having a history.” Even if that history included a power-hungry angel doctor that made Dr. Frankenstein look like a candy striper.

He sighed. “I will consider your defense. Is there anything else?”

Raffe told her multiple times how reluctant Michael was to taking up the mantle of the Messenger. It hadn’t really hit home until now, as she watched him deal with the more thankless bits of his role, how much he didn’t want this.

As another highly reluctant leader, she could sympathize.

“Those are the two main things. There are a couple other details, but Raffe and Josiah could explain those better than I could later.”

“Raphael could tell me now.” Michael nodded to a dot in the sky growing bigger and bigger. “He’s coming.”

“About time.”

“You are very eager for me to talk to him instead.”

“I’m not exactly the most gifted diplomat or politician. I’m better with a sword or my fists than with words.”

“I despise politics as well. With Uriel the Politician, he always said something, meant something else, and then did something entirely different. You are too unsophisticated to lie, but your blunt honesty is much more tolerable.”

“Right back at you, buddy.”

They both watched as Raffe drew closer, cutting through the wind as quickly as possible with his demon wings.

“His wings...” Michael murmured. “I did not want to believe that either.”

Her heart clenched. She hadn’t made the sacrifice, hadn’t personally experienced the pain, but it still hurt all the same.

“I do not know how you convinced Raphael to give up his wings.”

“If you know Raffe even the slightest bit, you know that no one makes him do anything. He makes his own decisions.”

He looked away from the sky to watch her watch Raphael.

“I find it very difficult to believe that you are worth the sacrifice. You are not as beautiful as angel and I doubt you are skilled warrior without the borrowed sword.”

“You say the sweetest things. You forget to mention that I don’t have a nice personality either.”

“I do know you very well, but I suspect you do not.”

“There’s one thing you’re wrong about. Pooky’s mine, just as much she is Raffe’s.”

“...Pooky?”

Before Penryn could make introductions, Raffe finally landed down between Michael and Penryn.

* * *

“You’re early, Michael.”

Raphael didn’t turn his back to him, Michael observed. He still had enough sense as a warrior not to turn away from a potential threat.

But he positioned himself deliberately between Michael and his Daughter of Man. He took a few seconds to rake his eyes over the girl, checking to see that she was unharmed. His eyes narrowed on the bruise on her cheek.

The Daughter of Man, on the other hand, broke into a dazzling smile when she saw Raphael. It was only for a second, before she carefully schooled her expression back to neutral.

“It’s alright, Raffe.” The girl stood up from her perch and strode to Raphael and wrapped an arm around his waist. His arm automatically went around her shoulders, tucking her closer. “We already went over his timing. And the bruise was from earlier today.”

“Humans are very soft,” Michael said. “I did not think that an injury was out of the ordinary considering how fragile they are.”

“I forgot how much I enjoyed talking to you, Michael,” Raphael said. He already sounded weary. “You always manage to figure out how to say something with least amount of tact.”

“Tact, or my lack thereof, would not be my problem if I were not the Messenger.”

“Better you than me.”

As he said this, Raphael and Penryn exchanged glances. In that one look, it became clear that Raphael had never made a decision about whether or not to make sacrifice. As he looked at his Daughter of Man, it was clear that there had never been an alternative to begin with for him.

 


	2. Now

“You all took bets on me?!”

“Of course, Maggot Slayer.” Howler lounged at the edge of the roof, his left arm and leg dangling over the side of the building. “A showdown between you and Archangel Michael? That was bound to be interesting.”

“There was no showdown.”

“So you didn’t tell Michael to drag his ass back home where he belonged?” Hawk asked.

“Well, not like that…”

“Or that you were glad that Uriel and Gabriel were dead?” Thermo added.

Penryn squirmed indignantly.

“Only Uriel. I only say that humans weren’t sorry about his death.”

Howler snorted. “No kidding. Your people only tore him apart with your bare hands.”

“Shut up, Howler.”

Penryn had been pleasantly surprised when she discovered had this evening free. She had first sought out Paige, but Paige had been busy with the other recently rehabilitated kids. So she had trekked up to the roof to wait for Raffe to come back from his evening patrol.

Howler, Thermo, and Hawk had tagged along (completely uninvited, she might add) to keep her company.

“Hey, I wasn’t the one that bet a week’s worth of morning patrol duty that you’d almost set off another war,” Howler said.

“Almost,” said Hawk gloomily. Penryn threw him a dark look. He was still sulking. “I didn’t say that it would actually have happened.”

“It would have been illogical for Michael to wage a second war,” Thermo said. “I had complete faith in you, Penryn.”

Howler faked a cough. “Suck up!”

“Oh shut up. All of you are worse than DeeDum.”

“At least those freaky twins know how to win a bet.” Howler shook his head mournfully. “I would’ve bet my wings that Michael would have taken a stab at you at least once, Maggot Slayer. Or maybe he’s like the Commander and just fell madly in love with you-”

Penryn had had enough. She shoved Howler off the roof.

He yelped in surprise as he tumbled through the air while Hawk and Thermo howled with laughter.

Howler managed to break his dive a good two stories above ground and swept back up to the roof like an avenging angel.

He yanked her under a head lock. “Not very nice, Maggot Slayer.”

His grip was nowhere near tight but Penryn couldn’t resist--she darted her hand back and jabbed her thumb into his eye.

He cursed and sprang away, rubbing a hand over his eyelid.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t bet your wings away,” Penryn said, grinning.

“Didn’t know you could scream like a little girl, too,” snorted Thermo. Hawk cackled.

“Shut up, Thermo.” Howler sat down next to Penryn and ruffled her head good-naturedly. “Leave it to the Commander to find himself a Daughter of Man with violent tendencies.”

“You’ve gone so soft, Howler.” Hawk shook his head mockingly. “A little old Daughter of Man could take you out.”

At this, Howler let out a war cry and tackled both Thermo and Hawk. All three tumbled off the roof and commenced fistfighting midair.

Penryn laughed. She sat back and watched their horseplay. As she leaned over to admire their technique--Thermo had a mean upside down left hook--she heard boots making soft thuds on concrete.

“Your soldiers lack discipline, Raphael.” Penryn recognized Michael’s booming voice before she even turned around.

“It now becomes clear to me why they all succumbed to Daughters of Man so easily,” Michael continued.

Next to Michael, Raffe sighed, either from irritation or amusement. Probably both. Penryn trotted over to him and pecked his cheek in greeting.

“Hello, Michael.” She wrapped her arm around Raffe’s waist. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“I doubt it is actually pleasant for you. I am sure you feel as indifferent as I do about our meeting.”

The corner of Raffe’s lip twitched as he bit back a smile. Although that might have been due to the distant racket of the angelic fistfight.

“It’s one of our little human expressions. I’ll try not to get sentimental on you, Michael.”

“I would appreciate that. Particularly as we have an important matter to discuss.”

Penryn’s good mood plummeted faster than Howler’s dive. She tensed immediately.

Raffe squeezed her hand.

“It isn’t as bad as it sounds,” he murmurs.

“I think it would be best if you refrained from being sentimental as well, Raphael.” Michael grumbled. “Please retain some dignity.”

“I think being afraid of couples holding hands makes you the undignified one,” Raffe said dryly.

“I simply wish to keep discipline in order, which is frankly an impossible task on Earth.” Michael, now thoroughly and amusingly disgruntled, turned to Penryn. “Some of my brethren are requesting asylum on Earth.”

Penryn stared at Michael for a beat. A car alarm went off, followed by a loud, distant curse from Hawk.

“What?”

“Some angels wish to remain on Earth instead of returning home with their brothers,” Michael repeated. “Would you like me to me use smaller words?”

“I got what you said the first time. Don’t talk to me like I’m an idiot. I want to know why.”

“I cannot even begin to understand why.”

“Michael.” Raffe’s voice was caught somewhere between a growl and a sigh. He turned to Penryn. “They’re about twenty angels that are asking to stay. Some of them are sick of the breakdown of angel society. They say they would rather live free and alone on Earth than take commands from a corrupt order.”

“Uriel and Gabriel were the corrupt ones,” Michael said darkly. “But I am the one they are accusing of dishonor.”

“No one’s accused you of anything,” said Raffe. “I doubt anyone thinks you would have the imagination.”

“I thought the angels were all about rules and order and discipline though,” Penryn said. “Warrior race with a strict chain of command--following orders, not judging them.”

Raffe grinned. “Nice to see you were paying attention.”

“I always paid attention when you were rejecting me. Your lecture about angelic society and order was one of the stupider reasons you gave for breaking my heart.”

“It is difficult to enforce rules when the person who created them in the first place was called into question.” Michael quickly steered the conversation back to course, before he was forced to endure more details about his fellow archangel’s love life. “And after the whole debacle on Earth, people back home are demanding some sort of change. So if some angels are requesting to stay, then I will not immediately throw them into the Pit for insubordination.”

“Try to look less disappointed about that, Michael,” Penryn said. “Anyway, I thought angels were not meant to be alone?”

“They came together as a group,” said Michael. The deserters will have each other.”

“The Watchers will be sticking around as well, bringing the count of angels potentially staying to almost three dozen. It’s not much, but it’ll be enough for us,” Raffe added. “And a few of them fell for Daughters of Men, which will make it easier.”

Raffe dropped the last bit so casually, she was sure she misheard.

“You’re joking.”

“No,” Michael said. “He is not. Raphael is not the only one who has succumbed to this madness.”

“My madness is standing right in front of you, Michael. Try to be more polite.”

Penryn had to sit down on the ledge.

“That’s--that’s--wow…” She let out a breath and shook her head in amazement. “I mean, good for them, I suppose.”

Raffe cocked his head. “It’s not that shocking. If I could fall for a Daughter of Man, then anyone could.”

“Yeah, because you fell under my spell so easily.”

“You have no idea how true that is.”

Penryn bit her lip and tried (and failed) to not blush under Raffe’s gaze.

Michael crossed his arms and cleared his throat. He did not want to be here for this.

“I have no problem with granting the angels’ request, so long as you give them permission to stay.”

“Me?” There had to be point where she stopped being shocked. “Why me?”

“It is your planet.”

“Yeah, but I’m not the queen of humanity. Why don’t you ask the international delegates about this?”

“They are all tiresome and annoying. I prefer negotiating with you and Raphael.”

Penryn had to resist rolling her eyes. Leave it to Michael to both compliment them and make their lives harder.

“I don’t have any personal problem with them staying as long they aren’t any trouble. You talked to them already, right?” she asked Raffe.

He nodded. “They check out fine. They’re not looking to cause problems.”

“Okay.” Penryn sighed. These next few days were going to be a headache. “I’ll go with Raffe to talk to them tomorrow, and then I’ll try talking to the delegates about their situation. I’m not sure how they’ll listen to me, but I’ll do everything I can to advocate for them.”

“That is not much, but you’ve given me your word. That counts for something. Thank you.”

“It might be a hassle but it’s the right thing to do.” She shrugged. “Besides, you could’ve been a lot harsher about this, but you’re doing your best to be fair. You’re a good guy, Michael.”

“Hey, kid.” Alpha stuck his head through the doorway to the roof. “The angels--”

“The Watchers have already stopped fighting.” They had even gotten the car alarm to stop beeping. She looked down at the street. Unfortunately, their method of stopping the alarm had involved breaking the car.

“Yeah, but the car they broke belonged to European representatives.”

“Crap. I’ll handle it right away. See you soon, Raffe.” She kissed his cheek before hurrying off. “Bye, Michael.”

* * *

Michael and Raphael stood in awkward silence on the roof for a minute.

“I suppose we’re done here, Michael?” Raphael asked.

Michael nodded.

“Your Daughter of Man is...I imagined her to be different.”

Michael didn’t know why he said that. Clearly, being on Earth for so long had addled his brains if he was voluntarily talking about the romantic life of one of his brothers.

A romantic life with a Daughter of Man no less.

“Expecting some kind of witch?”

“I expected a seductress beyond compare.”

Raphael burst out laughing. Michael could not help feeling insulted.

“It was not an unreasonable thing to expect, considering what I have heard,” Michael said stiffly.

“We may not be close, Michael, but you should know me better than that. A seductress.” Raphael snickered. “I bet it only took you thirty seconds to figure out that wasn’t it.”

“Yes. For a Daughter of Man, she is…” Michael considered the few conversations he and Penryn had shared. The compliment she had so freely extended to him a few moments ago had been unexpectedly gratifying. “She is not unexceptional.”

Raphael raised a brow. “You like her.”

“I...yes.” He was shocked to come to that realization himself. “If there is any Daughter of Man worth making your sacrifice for, then I supposed it would be her.”

“She is. More than you will ever know.”

“I am sorry, Raphael.”

“For what? Thinking she was a seductress?” He grinned, looking younger and more happier than Michael had ever seen him. “Don’t be. It’s hilarious. I can’t wait to see the look on Penryn’s face when I tell her.”

“No, I would not apologize for that. I am sorry that you have so little time with your Daughter of Man. I think your choice is foolish because you will not even have a century with her. But I am sad for you anyway. She is lovely, even if her time is brief.”

“Don’t talk about her like she’s already dead.” Raphael’s voice was calm, but his fists were already clenched so hard that his knuckles had turned white.

“I am not. I merely acknowledging what is to come. After she passes, you are welcome to come back to our realm--”

“That’s enough, Michael.”

“I understand if it hurts you, but you have--”

Raphael had Michael shoved against the door to the roof and his fist raised before either of them had even realized what was happening.

He managed to get a hold of himself before he swung. He stalked away in disgust.

“Don’t talk about her,” he snarled. “Don’t talk about this like you know it feels.”

Michael was not frustrated or angry. To his surprise, he felt pity.

He tried to be gentle.

“She will die, Raphael.” If Raphael struck him, so be it. “Maybe not today, or tomorrow. But you are eternal and she is not. You need to know how to live without her when her time passes.”

This time, Raphael did lose control. His punch sent Michael flying straight the door and tumbling down the stairs.

From the bottom of a flight of stairs, Michael heard running steps and the rustle of wings as Raphael took off into the dusk.

* * *

Raffe flew over the ocean until the moon was well and high in sky. By the time he found himself in a deserted park, pacing under a oak tree, it must have been well past midnight.

Irresponsible, hotheaded, stupid, stupid, stupid. Why had he lost it with Michael? It wasn’t anything that he didn’t already know, something he had already reminded himself a thousand times over.

He even knew what it would be like when she died. He had lived that reality for a few dark days. After experiencing that particular hell, it had been easy to toss away his wings if it meant that she kept living, whether it was for a few decades or for a few heartbeats.

So, no. He wasn’t delusional. He knew that sand was pouring down the hourglass and one day he would run out.

But when he looked at Penryn--healthy, beautiful, _alive_ Penryn--he couldn’t reconcile the inevitable with the reality before him. It was the last thing he wanted to think about.

Christ, why was he even here? He didn’t want to be alone in the middle of the night in some godforsaken park. He wanted to be home, in bed, with his Daughter of Man, with…

“Penryn,” he breathed.

He heard footsteps on the grass from the distance and turned to see her, moving towards him, her figure bathed in moonlight.

She broke out into a sprint when she saw his face. He barely registered himself running towards her until they crashed into each other, clinging together desperately.

Penryn pulled away first, cupping his face in her hands and touching his forehead to hers.

“Shit. Shit, Raffe, shit. I was so scared. I came back and found a wrecked door and Michael bleeding and all he told me was that you left and he wouldn’t tell me why. No one knew where you were and the Watchers had no idea where you might have gone and something just felt wrong. I thought that something had hurt you or that--or that you were just done with me. That-that you left. Shit. Shit. Shit.”

Her voice died down to whisper at the end and her eyes were swimming with tears. She buried her face in the crook of her neck. He felt her heart drumming rapidly against his chest.

“Never,” he vowed. He tipped her head back, kissing her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks, her nose. Making promises in the space that came between his lips and her skin. “Never, never, never. I’m so sorry. Christ, I’m so sorry.”

For weeks after his decision to stay, Penryn had harbored doubts--fearing that he would suddenly wake up and regret his choice. He had teased her at first, absolutely baffled that she would think he would want anything else in all the worlds more than her. Hadn’t he proven otherwise?

He whispered her name against her lips, a wish and a prayer and a surrender all rolled into one before drawing her in and kissing her, long and deep. Her body pressed against the oak tree, his body pressed against hers as their hands roved each other’s forms.

Raffe dragged the coat off her body and tossed it aside. He pressed his hand over her heart, reassuring himself of its beat as he peppered kisses down the side of Penryn’s neck, nipping and tasting her as he went. Her heartbeat wasn’t steady. It was as rapid and intense and frantic as his was likely to be and all he could think was _good_. Her heart beats for him just as much his beats for hers.

His hand curled into a fist over the fabric of her shirt and he ripped it clean off her body. She gasped. He pushed the rags still hanging off her body and somehow--he couldn’t fathom how he had the patience not to rip it off as well--unclasped her bra and tossed it aside. He cupped the back of her knees and shoved her against the tree once more. He kissed her breasts, taking her nipple into his mouth and tracing the circle with his tongue.

She moaned, clutching him close with one arm wrapped around his neck and the other hand buried in his hair and her legs locked tight around his waist. It wasn’t enough. His world had narrowed down to him and her. His thoughts had devolved into just _Penryn Penryn Penryn Penryn_. Every instinct forgotten except _more_ and _closer_.

He thrust against her. They both groaned at the sensation. Too much and not enough.

Too many goddamn layers. They came apart, for a moment, kicking off shoes and all but tearing garments off from each other. Her fingers shook as she tried to get his pants off. He helped her and then kissed her hands, murmuring how much he loved her against the life lines on her palms.

She wrapped her arms and legs around him again, wedged between the rough bark of the oak and his taut body. He kissed her once more as he slid into her warmth. She sighed into his mouth and for a moment he felt satisfied.

But the hunger in his belly roared back to life and demanded more more more. He needed the softness of her skin under his hands, the taste of her sweat on his tongue, the moans and whimpers as she gave herself to him.

He needed the past and future to dissolve, until there was nothing left but this moment, with the heat of her body warm against his and the thud of her pulse under his lips.

And so he chases after that high, thrusting into and against her. The pace he set was unforgiving, too fast, too rough. But she wasn’t a fragile, breakable thing. She tugged his hair and rolled her hips to meet his, whispering moaning screaming his name as he took her.

They were partners, equals in everything. Perhaps that was why when he took control this time, why when he demanded her surrender, she gave it so freely. He needed this so badly and that need become hers as well.

He brings a hand to junction between their bodies and circles her clit. She gasps his name, begging for release. He continues his ministrations as he sucks lightly at the base of her throat, her pulse singing underneath his lips.

Raffe bites down on the spot. Hard. Penryn comes apart underneath him and after a few thrusts, he follows her.

They stumble down onto the grass. Penryn lays on his chest and Raffe wraps his arms around her, holding her close.

It felt like hours before Penryn got her breath back and the ringing in her ears died down.

“What the hell was that?” she asked Raffe, still panting slightly.

Raffe began to reply, but then saw her--skin flush in the moonlight, eyes slightly dazed from pleasure, and his mark red against her neck.

“More,” he said instead.

He rolled them so Penryn had her back against the cool grass and kisses a trail down her body.

* * *

Penryn sighs against Raffe’s neck, more than satisfied but tired as hell. He rubs her back soothingly as she sits on his lap, whispering to her about how good she was, how beautiful she looks under the moon, and other things that would have turned her into mush if she wasn’t already sure her bones had liquified from exhaustion already.

As his thumb skims the side of her breast, she senses a fourth round coming and scrambles off of him.

“No, Raffe.”

“Penryn, please.” He kisses her fingertips and tries to tug her back.

“No.” Damn her if her voice didn’t sound husky and as far from resistant as she could possibly get. But she manages to place a hand on his chest to establish distance.

She shakes head, trying to clear the mental fog.

"No," she repeats, although she doesn't know if it's for his sake or hers. "You punch Michael, disappear for hours, and then screw my brains out in a park in the middle of the night." She takes Raffe's hands in hers and squeezes. "What happened, Raffe? What's wrong?"

Raffe stares at their linked hands.

"I...I was reminded of something I didn't want to think of."

Penryn waited for him to elaborate. When he didn't she tried to prompt him. "And?"

"It's not important."

"Raffe, I'm black and blue and green and brown all over, and I'm going to hella sore in the morning. It didn't feel 'not important.'"

The corner of his lip twitched just a bit. "I didn't hear any complaints. And actually received quite a few compliments..."

She punched his arm but couldn't help feel relieved. He was getting back to normal.

His fingers skimmed lightly up her arm, across her neck. "I'm sorry if I hurt you. Not just the sex, but for disappearing on you." He cradled her face in his hand, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "I didn't think about how it'd look. I thought you were finally used to the idea of me staying."

"I thought so, too." Penryn placed her hand over his. "I'm not proud of it, but it just came back into my head and I couldn't let it go."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Just--what happened?"

"Michael told me I was allowed to come back to the angels once...once you died. I didn't react well."

"But why? Isn't that a good thing?"

"I didn't like the part about you dying."

"Oh, Raffe." She had no clue how to respond to that. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his torso and held him close.

Death was not an easy topic for her. She had become well-acquainted with almost dying frequently, but the aftermath was always difficult. To her, there was nothing to say that would heal the heartache. All you could do was wait for scars to cover the gaping wounds left behind.

"I'm sorry," she whispered against his chest.

"That's a pretty pointless thing to say when you've done nothing wrong."

"Ok, then. How about I love you?"

He leaned back a little and cocked his head playfully. "Try it and let's see how it works."

Penryn couldn't help but smile. "I love you."

"Marry me."

She didn't know whether to laugh or to sigh.

"You have no sense of build-up, do you? Hey, just so you know I'm in love with you, thorn in my boot. Hey, you're naked in a park. Let's get married."

"Is that a no?"

"Raffe," she chided. "There's no one else in the world I love like I love you. There will never be anyone else I will love, want, or need like you. I would do anything for you. If you want get some fancy rings, cool. But I'm already basically your wife anyways."

That got him to smile. "Guess that makes me your husband."

"Better go find some fancy rings, Mr. Penryn Young."

Raffe burst out laughing. "Christ, Penryn. I love you so much."

"You think it's funny now, but I actually kind of like it."

"Call me whatever you want. As long as I'm yours and you're mine."

"Deal."

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of weird and random, but I just wanted to get it out of my head.


End file.
